Having shown, then, that in reference to the state of Spain, war was not the course prescribed by any rational policy to England, let us next try the question in reference to France.
I do not stop here to refute and disclaim again the unworthy notion, which was early put forward, but has been since silently retracted and disowned, that it might have been advisable to try the chance of what might be effected by a menace of war, unsupported by any serious design of carrying that menace into execution. Those by whom this manoeuvre was originally supposed to be recommended are, I understand, anxious to clear themselves from the suspicion of having intended to countenance it, and profess indeed to wonder by whom such an idea can have been entertained. Be it so: I will not press the point invidiously—it is not necessary for my argument. I have a right then to take it as admitted, that we could not have threatened war without being thoroughly prepared for it; and that, in determining to threaten, we must virtually have determined (whatever the chances of escaping that ultimate result) to go to war—that the determinations were in fact identical.
Neither will I discuss over again that other proposition, already sufficiently exhausted in former debates, of the applicability of a purely maritime war to a struggle in aid of Spain, in the campaign by which her fate is to be decided. I will not pause to consider what consolation it would have been to the Spanish nation—what source of animation, and what encouragement to perseverance in resisting their invader—to learn that, though we could not, as in the last war, march to their aid, and mingle our banners with theirs in battle, we were, nevertheless, scouring their coasts for prizes, and securing to ourselves an indemnification for our own expenses in the capture of Martinico.
To go to war therefore directly, unsparingly, vigorously against France, in behalf of Spain, in the way in which alone Spain could derive any essential benefit from our co-operation—to join her with heart and hand, or to wrap ourselves up in a real and bona fide neutrality—that was the true alternative.
Some gentlemen have blamed me for a want of enthusiasm upon this occasion—some, too, who formerly blamed me for an excess of that quality; but though I am charged with not being now sufficiently enthusiastic, I assure them that I do not contemplate the present contest with indifference. Far otherwise. I contemplate, I confess, with fearful anxiety, the peculiar character of the war in which France and Spain are engaged and the peculiar direction which that character may possibly give, to it. I was—I still am—an enthusiast for national independence; but I am not—I hope I never shall be—an enthusiast in favour of revolution. And yet how fearfully are, those two considerations intermingled, in the present contest between France and Spain! This is no war for territory or for commercial advantages. It is unhappily a war of principle. France has invaded Spain from enmity to her new institutions. Supposing the enterprise of France not to succeed, what is there to prevent Spain from invading France, in return, from hatred of the principle upon which her invasion has been justified? Looking upon both sides with an impartial eye, I may avow that I know no equity which should bar the Spaniards from taking such a revenge. But it becomes quite another question whether I should choose to place myself under the necessity of actively contributing to successes which might inflict on France so terrible a retribution. If I admit that such a retribution by the party first attacked could scarcely be censured as unjust, still the punishment retorted upon the aggressor would be so dreadful, that nothing short of having received direct injury could justify any third Power in taking part in it.
War between France and Spain (as the Duke of Wellington has said) must always, to a certain degree, partake of the character of a civil war; a character which palliates, if it does not justify, many acts that do not belong to a regular contest between two nations. But why should England voluntarily enter into a co-operation in which she must either take part in such acts, or be constantly rebuking and coercing her allies? If we were at war with France upon any question such as I must again take the liberty of describing by the term 'external' question, we should not think ourselves (I trust no government of this country would think itself) justified in employing against France the arms of internal revolution. But what, I again ask, is there to restrain Spain from such means of defensive retaliation, in a struggle begun by France avowedly from enmity to the internal institutions of Spain? And is it in such a quarrel that we would mix ourselves? If one of two contending parties poisons the well-springs of national liberty, and the other employs against its adversary the venomed weapons of political fanaticism, shall we voluntarily and unnecessarily associate ourselves with either, and become responsible for the infliction upon either of such unusual calamities? While I reject, therefore, with disdain, a suggestion which I have somewhere heard, of the possibility of our engaging against the Spanish cause, still I do not feel myself called upon to join with Spain in hostilities of such peculiar character as those which she may possibly retaliate upon France. Not being bound to do so by any obligation, expressed or implied, I cannot consent to be a party to a war in which, if Spain should chance to be successful, the result to France, and, through France, to all Europe, might, in the case supposed, be such as no thinking man can contemplate without dismay; and such as I (for my own part) would not assist in producing, for all the advantages which England could reap from the most successful warfare.
I now come to the third consideration which we had to weigh—the situation of Portugal. It is perfectly true, as was stated by the honourable gentleman (Mr. Macdonald) who opened this debate, that we are bound by treaty to assist Portugal in case of her being attacked. It is perfectly true that this is an ancient and reciprocal obligation. It is perfectly true that Portugal has often been in jeopardy; and equally true that England has never failed to fly to her assistance. But much misconception has been exhibited during the last two nights, with respect to the real nature of the engagements between Portugal and this country: a misconception which has undoubtedly been, in part, created by the publication of some detached portions of diplomatic correspondence at Lisbon. The truth is, that some time ago an application was made to this Government by Portugal to 'guarantee the new political institutions' of that kingdom. I do not know that it has been the practice of this country to guarantee the political institutions of another. Perhaps something of the sort may be found in the history of our connexion with the united provinces of Holland, in virtue of which we interfered, in 1786, in the internal disputes of the authorities in that State. But that case was a special exception: the general rule is undoubtedly the other way. I declined, therefore, on the part of Great Britain, to accede to this strange application; and I endeavoured to reconcile the Portuguese Government to our refusal, by showing that the demand was one which went directly to the infraction of that principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of other States, which we professed for ourselves, and which it was obviously the interest of Portugal to see respected and maintained. Our obligations had been contracted with the old Portuguese monarchy. Our treaty bound us to consult the external safety of Portugal; and not to examine, to challenge, or to champion its internal institutions. If we examined their new institutions for the sake of deriving from them new motives for fulfilling our old engagements, with what propriety could we prohibit other Powers from examining them for the purpose of drawing any other conclusion? It was enough to say that such internal changes no way affected our engagements with Portugal; that we felt ourselves as much bound to defend her, under her altered constitution, as under the ancient monarchy, with which our alliance had been contracted. More than this we could not say; and more than this it was not her interest to require.
And what is the obligation of this alliance? To defend Portugal—to assist her, if necessary, with all our forces, in case of an unprovoked attack upon her territory. This, however, does not give to Portugal any right to call on us, if she were attacked in consequence of her voluntarily declaring war against another Power. By engaging in the cause of Spain, without any direct provocation from France, she would unquestionably lose all claim upon our assistance. The rendering that assistance would then become a question of policy, not of duty. Surely my honourable and learned friend (Sir James Mackintosh), who has declaimed so loudly on this subject, knows as well as any man, that the course which we are bound to follow, in any case affecting Portugal, is marked out in our treaties with that Crown, with singular accuracy and circumspection. In case of the suspicion of any design being entertained against Portugal by another Power, our first duty is to call on such Power for explanation: in case of such interposition failing, we are to support Portugal by arms; first with a limited force, and afterwards with all our might. This treaty we have fulfilled to the letter, in the present instance. We long ago reminded France, of our engagements with Portugal; and we have received repeated assurances that it is the determination of France rigidly to respect the independence of that kingdom. Portugal certainly did show some jealousy (as has been asserted) with respect to the Congress of Verona; and she applied to this Government to know whether her affairs had been brought before the Congress. I was half afraid of giving offence when I said 'the name of Portugal was never mentioned'. 'What, not mentioned? not a word about the new institutions?' 'No, not one. If mentioned at all, it was only with reference to the slave trade.' In truth, from the beginning to the close of the proceedings of the Congress, not the most distant intimation was given of any unfriendly design against Portugal.
Now, before I quit the Peninsula, a single word more to the honourable member for Westminster and his constituents. Have they estimated the burdens of a Peninsular War? God forbid that, if honour, or good faith, or national interest required it, we should decline the path of duty because it is encompassed with difficulties; but at least we ought to keep some consideration of these difficulties in our minds. We have experience to teach us, with something like accuracy, what are the pecuniary demands of the contest for which we must be prepared, if we enter into a war in the Peninsula. To take only two years and a half of the last Peninsular War of which I happen to have the accounts at hand, from the beginning of 1812 to the glorious conclusion of the campaign of 1814, the expense incurred in Spain and Portugal was about £33,000,000. Is that an expense to be incurred again, without some peremptory and unavoidable call of duty, of honour, or of interest?
Such a call we are at all times ready to answer, come (to use the expression so much decried), come what may. But there is surely sufficient ground for pausing, before we acquiesce in the short and flippant deduction of a rash consequence from false premises, which has been so glibly echoed from one quarter to another, during the last four months. 'Oh! we must go to war with France, for we are bound to go to war in defence of Portugal. Portugal will certainly join Spain against France; France will then attack Portugal; and then our defensive obligation comes into play.' Sir, it does no such thing. If Portugal is attacked by France, or by any other Power, without provocation, Great Britain is indeed bound to defend her: but if Portugal wilfully seeks the hostility of France, by joining against France in a foreign quarrel, there is no such obligation on Great Britain. The letter of treaties is as clear as the law of nations is precise upon this point: and as I believe no British statesman ever lived, so I hope none ever will live, unwise enough to bind his country by so preposterous an obligation, as that she should go to war, not merely in defence of an ally, but at the will and beck of that ally, whenever ambition, or false policy, or a predominant faction, may plunge that ally into wars of her own seeking and contriving.